


I'll Save All My Bowties For You

by beardleyjeames



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hunger magazine, Jealousy, M/M, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardleyjeames/pseuds/beardleyjeames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin had mostly been joking when he suggested Bradley come to the photo shoot with him. Then things got out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Save All My Bowties For You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent photos of Colin in the Hunger magazine shoot. Can you blame me?

Colin had been mostly joking when he had suggested it. Bradley was lounging on their - his - couch, head hung upside down over the armrest, watching Colin run around throwing last minute items into his backpack. He'd been there for the better part of an hour, reading pointless tweets out loud, teasing Colin about what ‘professional models’ do on a ‘professional model shoot’, and being a general nuisance when the words had just slipped out.

“If you're so curious why don't you just come along?”

Bradley had just blinked at him and maybe it was because he was upside down but Colin couldn't read his expression when he replied.

“Yeah, alright.”

Then it had been Colin's turn to stand there uselessly as Bradley wandered around their - Colin's - flat, loading things into his backpack and looking for a clean jumper and his left shoe. God only knows why just the left one was missing but that was just how Bradley rolled. He was a one missing shoe kind of guy.

The only problem was that Colin didn't have time to contemplate when so many of Bradley's things had ended up at Colin's flat and somehow managed to mix in with his own because if he didn't leave the flat that second he was going to be late. And not in a ‘I'm-a-professional-and-therefore-leaving-the-house-thirty-minutes-early-thereby-giving-me-a-comfortable-margin-of-twenty-five-extra-minutes’ way, but in a ‘oh-my-god-why-did-I-let-Bradley-talk-me-into-watching-another-episode-of-Top-Gear-before-getting-ready’ kind of way. It was a fifteen minute walk to the tube, a twenty-eight minute train ride, and then another eight minute walk to get to the shoot location (he'd timed the route precisely thanks to google maps and the tfl journey planner). And that was only if he didn't get recognized and stopped, something that was happening disturbingly frequently these days. Add an extra five to ten minutes onto his travel time and ah yes, he was most definitely not going to be there early, was almost certainly not going to be there at the call time, and therefore fucked.

‘Look, I have to leave right this second but I'll text you the address on the way. Just lock up behind you and I'll tell reception to send you up when you get there.’ He doesn't wait to hear Bradley's response, just slams the door and takes off down the street like the fans are following.

He's waylaid by a red crossing signal and normally he would have just risked it and ran but it was at the damn roundabout which was hard enough to cross when the pedestrian signal was green so he opts for pulling out his mobile to forward Bradley the address. He's just descending the escalator when he feels the telltale vibration of an incoming text. By the time the crowd stops rushing around him at a breakneck pace he's too far underground to respond. Half-hoping it was the production manager texting to say he was so late he'd really be better off not coming, he pulls out his mobile to see Bradley's response of ‘k just leaving now’ on the screen. For some reason, its reading those words that triggers an unconnected thought of _why does Bradley have the spare keys to my flat?_

In theory he knows the answer: Bradley had been flying back and forth between America and the U.K. at frequent intervals. Colin had said it was stupid to pay rent on a flat he barely ever used so the solution had been for Bradley to kip at his whenever he was in London. Which was well good most days except when Colin had an audition or a show or, god forbid, a social life that didn't involve Bradley. Which was how the spare key had been gifted to him for emergency situations; just on days they were going to be out at conflicting times.

But somewhere along the line the keys had gone from ‘emergency situations’ to ‘just hold onto it for the week’ to ‘well you may as well keep it in case I'm not here the next time you're in town’. It was probably around the same time Colin had stopped thinking of it as ‘his couch’ and started calling it ‘Bradley's couch’ which he knew was completely irrational as Bradley didn't actually live there but the thing was he sort of did. In theory Bradley was still actively looking for work in America; the same way it was still Colin's couch. But Bradley had been there for nearly a month and hadn't said a word about flights or the cost of airfare (and Bradley was very vocal about those things) and Colin hadn't asked because if he was completely honest with himself he liked having Bradley there all the time. Even on days like today when he was being as big a prat as Arthur circa 2009, because Bradley forced him to come home and relax at the end of the day rather than eat, sleep, and breathe his work. Bradley was a nice distraction from all his pesky anxieties about his next project and doing a magazine shoot again even though they stressed him out. If he had to list five words that described Bradley, ‘distraction’ would definitely be in the top-three. Possibly second. Because really, ‘fit’ was the only thing he could justifiably ascribe to the top position, with his stupid triangle shaped torso that tapered at the waist and his unfairly muscular thighs which confused Colin to no end because he couldn't tell if he wanted to have thighs like that or just run his tongue along them. And those stupid big blue eyes with the stupid deep blue pools and the stupid light blue accents that suck him in like a twister sucks in cattle. And that was a daft metaphor but he literally spent months being paid to stare into those eyes and he still couldn't figure out how Bradley could see out of the damn things because they were _so blue_ that really, they shouldn't function and he sometimes worried about Bradley stumbling and hurting himself which was crazy because the colour of one's eyes really shouldn't impact their usefulness.

It was pure luck that he emerged from his ocular panic just as the train was grinding to a halt at his station. Running up the escalator, he all but bolted down the street, silently cursing the distraction that called itself Bradley James. Because despite distracting him from being late, he was now slightly flushed from more than just running. He really hoped they were going to put him in loose fitting trousers - for everyone's sake.

He got to the building with two minutes to spare and damn, that should not have been possible. He must have crossed the space-time barrier somewhere on his trip because the internet had sworn to him it would take fifty-one minutes and the internet doesn't lie. Colin takes google maps very seriously. As the receptionist ushers him into the lift he looks around but can't see the TARDIS or any wormholes or mid-air ripples so he figured he probably hasn't fucked up the universe too badly with his impossible feat so he shrugs it off and tries to bring himself back to the moment.

That proves easier than expected once the production assistant has him in the make-up chair and is pulling out the concept boards to explain the shoot as various stylists dance around him, tugging off his beanie and holding up colour meters. It was fairly straightforward: posh lads in various stages of preparing for a night out with things like pianos and whiskey tumblers for background accoutrements. He still isn't entirely sure what he's supposed to be selling but he can definitely get behind the atmosphere. Despite struggling to be calm and laidback in his own life, he has the inexplicable ability to turn it on for the cameras and lounge against objects like it's his mother fucking day job, which he supposes, it is actually.

It was during this mental pep-talk that Bradley chose to make his entrance, stuffing his face with a muffin and leaning back against the wall behind Colin's shoulder, just visible in the mirror.

“Jesus Cols, this is much fancier than any Merlin shoot we ever did. Why didn’t you tell me, I'd of started doing spreads years ago?”

Colin really wants to glare at him but the make-up assistant is applying a thin layer of mascara and he doesn't want to ruin her hard work. It was bad enough showing up red faced and sweaty. “You do realise there's going to be actual work going on right? It's not all lazing about eating muffins.” Bradley doesn’t respond, just takes another bite and smiles at him as he raises one leg to improve the angle of his lean.

It's really not fair how Bradley makes it look so easy. Colin has to mentally work at looking that carefree and unconcerned which is a little bit sad but he's accepted that as far as fatal flaws go, being a smidge socially awkward and a little uncomfortable with physicality isn't the worst thing in the world to overcome. It's just not fair that all Bradley seemed to draw the short stick on was getting a little less attention from the tooth fairy during the incubation phase, and even that was fixed by a simple trip to the dental surgeon. Colin hates that surgeon a little. He misses Bradley's perfectly imperfect teeth.

Once Bradley finishes his muffin he returns to his favourite game of ‘bother Colin until he reaches his breaking point’ which almost never happens so really it's a lose-lose for Colin. He's sometimes tempted to get fake angry (because he has an NTA that tells him he's a convincing actor) just to get five minutes of peace but it's usually a short lived enticement. The one time he did lose his temper was near the end of a long hot block of filming. It was the end of the week and he had been doing some challenging scenes, both physically and emotionally, and he'd been up on the wires for far too long and was tired and hungry and had the start of a truly spectacular tension headache coming on so basically every excuse under the sun to get mad when Bradley had come over and started pushing Colin back and forth like he was some sort of extremely disappointing circus artist. He'd completely lost his head on the third push and yelled at Bradley to piss off so loudly that the crew had all turned and stared at them from their little huddle in the director's tent. He'd never forget the look of shock on Bradley's face before he shut down completely and walked away, leaving Colin kicking himself on the wire rig. Watching Bradley be upset as Arthur was hard enough and Colin always tried to rush through those scenes in one take, because while the Merlin part of his brain was focused on his Merlin feelings, the part of his brain that still belonged to him wanted to punch people for making Bradley's face do things like that. Watching Bradley cry was like watching puppies get their souls sucked out by Dementors. Watching Bradley's face go horribly blank with the knowledge that he had done that was like watching those same puppy-sucking-Dementors pulling individual wings off of butterflies and watching the butterflies try to flap helplessly missing a crucial appendage.

There'd been no stupid jokes or friendly touches or any sort of contact outside the bounds of professionalism for the following three days and the footage had suffered for it. Production was just about in hysterics at how the producers were going to respond to the noticeable shift in the Arthur/Merlin dynamics when Colin figured he should stop being an awkward excuse for a human and apologise. All it had took was a simple ‘I'm sorry’ for the life to come back to Bradley's face and in an instant it was like nothing had ever happened between them because then Bradley was moaning about weird fans sending him milk again and Colin's snigger was just loud enough to cover the collective sigh that production had let out. They'd brought cake the next day which had been a nice touch, and lactose free at that.

It was this memory that carries Colin through the first five minutes of The Bradley Show as the host in question takes up residence in the empty chair beside him and babbles about everything and nothing all at once and Colin has to forcibly remind himself that punching Bradley in the face would be a bad thing. Although it may make his teeth crooked again, which would be lovely. Colin really hates that dental surgeon.

The make-up assistant smiles fondly at the two of them, as does the hairstylist as she takes over the second phase of his make-over. Colin has noticed this happens a lot when the two of them are out together. At first he thought it was a Merlin related phenomena as in ‘oh look, our lead actors are at it again, building their professional relationship and raking in the cash with every bonding moment’.  But then he started to notice people's stares when they weren't dressed in neckerchiefs and chainmail, smiling at them like they were a pair of ducks they'd very much like to feed. Colin refuses to start considering why people stare at them like that.

Bradley however, ploughs on as normal and doesn't appear to notice or if he does, doesn't mention it. That's another thing Colin envies about him; his incredible ability to roll with the punches. Literally. There was more than one occasion where they filmed fight sequences the fight director barely had enough time to sign off on and Bradley learned the choreography to as they were filming them. Colin is much more a ‘sit down and think about the punches and their motivation in great detail’ type of bloke.

Colin comes back into the one-sided conversation as Bradley starts describing his plans for the rest of the day.

“I might pop round United after this is done since we're already in central.”

“Oh?” Colin tries to turn but the hairstylist keeps a firm hold of his head as she carefully sculpts his fringe.

“Yeah, I mean, Ruth isn't expecting me or anything but she might have something new turned up, you never know.”

“Mmmm,” Colin hums noncommittally before his radar pings something from that sentence. “Wait, does this mean you're sticking around this time?”

It's Bradley's turn to do the hum of non-commitment before replying. “I might do, yeah. Why? Are you getting sick of having me around, cluttering up your library?” Bradley kicks at the base of his chair, making Colin sway and the hairstylist frown.

“No!” Colin blurts out and damn, hopefully Bradley will chalk that up to the chair giving him a scare rather than the idea of Bradley leaving bringing on a sudden panic attack. “And I do not have a library, I have one reasonably sized bookcase.”

“Mate, it's taller than you and packed from top to bottom.” And with that interesting choice of words giving him a visual he really didn't need at the moment, Colin is whisked off to the changing area. There really need to be some loose fitting trousers waiting for him.

“I'll see you on the other side comrade!” Bradley hollers dramatically down the hall. Colin can hear the remaining members of the styling team laughing behind him while the production assistant rolls her eyes and places a firm hand on his back. He's not sure whether she's trying to rush him to the changing area or stop him from turning around and continuing their stupid banter but either way her concerns are unnecessary, as it's now time to be a professional and that's what Colins do best.

Winnie the Pooh references aside, Colin does make a conscious decision to ignore Bradley for the rest of the day until the break. Then they can scoff bagels and continue their discussion from the morning on the merits of paddleboats versus kayaks and whether it would be possible to create some hybrid of the two. He's not entirely sure how they got on that topic of conversation but if he had to hazard a guess it would be somewhere around the point they were discussing  where they would go on their second BBC road trip ala Top Gear style where they had to do the journey on peddle-carts or some other ridiculous form of transportation. Surely paddleboats must have fit into that equation somehow.

Shaking off the last of these highly unprofessional but oh so very Bradley thoughts, Colin steps into the changing area and is immediately surrounded by a team of dressers. He gives what he hopes is a laidback “hey” to the other three gents in various states of dress and they respond back with varying levels of enthusiasm. At least they're all decently tall: Colin hates being the tallest one and group settings. It takes so much more courage to stand up straight when you tower over everyone around you and really just want to blend in.

The production assistant is telling him how they're going to start with the group shots and try to knock them out of the way before the break before moving on to the paired shots and individual close-ups. Colin is glad that the three others seem to have a good rapport going already and takes it as a sign that it's going to be a good shoot.  It doesn't take long for him to pick up the flow of the conversation (because he's an actor god damn it, he can be Mr. Sociable) and he cracks a joke that gets them all going. They walk to the set together in a tight formation, flanked on all sides by stylists performing last minute fixes. Colin's fringe is apparently an issue of contention for his poor stylist and he feels for the woman because she's fighting a losing battle. The director and the photographer step out from behind the camera to greet them and the photographer makes an offhand remark about wishing he'd had the foresight to snap a few pictures of their walk to the set. Apparently they'd looked ‘album cover ready’. They all laugh at that and the director ushers them into place, a smile staying resolutely on his face.

“Alright lads, keep this energy up. I want to see you having fun,” he says as he walks back behind the camera. The photographer starts snapping immediately, the shutter cracking like it could be on automatic.

“No pressure or anything,” one of them calls out.

“Yeah, smile or you're dead,” says a different one.

They all laugh some more and Colin is forcibly reminded of someone saying something remarkably similar to that roughly six years ago. _Smile god damnit smile!_ The memory forces a more natural smile out of him and he starts to shove his hands in his pockets, relaxing a bit at the surge of nostalgia. He vaguely registers the sudden absence of shudder snaps and turns to see the creative team hunched over a monitor.

“I don't want to jinx anything,” the director starts slowly, “but we may have got the shot. We'll try a few more, shuffle your positions up a bit, but I think it's a print. Well done gentleman, keep this up and we'll all be home for tea.”

It's during the shuffle that Colin catches sight of Bradley skulking on the sidelines. It takes him a full minute to recognise that it _is_ Bradley because the Bradley he knows doesn't skulk. But for whatever reason there he is, leaning hunched over in his corner with a dark look on his face. Colin is immediately tempted to go over and ask what's wrong but his decorum holds and he settles for raising an eyebrow at him. For some reason, this seems to be the wrong thing to do as Bradley's scowl sinks lower down on his forehead and his lips purse in a way that should be unattractive but is doing funny things to Colin's innards. The lips just moved up a few spots on the list of stupidly unfair features that were gifted to Bradley James.

Once the shuffle is finished, the photographer takes maybe fifty more frames before calling it quits, citing that he'd rather mix it up than try to recreate anything as organic as that ‘absolute beauty’ they'd gotten earlier. The set is to stay relatively the same, but these shots call for a wardrobe change and they are all ushered back to the changing area.

There's a bit of a hold up as the jacket he's supposed to be in is slightly too large at the front and he waits as the creative team decides whether to find a new jacket or just leave it. Colin half hopes that Bradley will get bored of waiting and leave before Colin remerges, but then Colin reminds himself that he's focused on his work and shoos thoughts of Bradley to the already messy corner of his brain that's constantly trying to make out what Bradley is to him (the quarterly publication says the issue is still under review and thanks the donors for their generous and continuing support). Unfortunately, Bradley seems to have miraculously developed an attention span in the last two hours that the entire production team on Merlin couldn't beat into him over the course of five years. Colin sends him a weak grin and is met with narrowed eyes and impossibly tight lips.

They're still doing group shots but the director wants to isolate them into pairs so they have the option of cutting them down to two-person shots in the editing room.  He and his partner both have bowties for this shoot, and he's about to comment on it when the director comes forward and pushes them closer together.

“Want to ramp up the tension on this one a bit lads,” he says with a wink. “It's still ‘night out with the lads’ but maybe now it's a ‘night out with the lads where you know he's going to pull dressed like that but you'd prefer it if he pulled you instead’.”

Since Colin has his professional mask on he doesn't blush outwardly, although his internal thermometer is rising at the idea of Bradley watching him hit on a man. It's not like he's been cagey about where his preferences lie, but it's one thing to know in theory and another thing to actually see your best mate get up close and personal with a man who would undoubtedly give him  terrific beard burn if they tried to make-out.

They never actually cross that line, since the director is a great fan of the ‘smoulder from a healthy distance’ routine. He risks a look at Bradley while the creative team is checking the proofs and has to fight the urge to either run over to him or run as fast as he can in the other direction. He's never really understood why people describe expressions as ‘stormy’ but in this moment he's finally found a reference point. If he had to measure it on a spectrum, Bradley's face definitely had some gale force winds going on and was rapidly approaching typhoon levels of rage. The worst part is he has no idea how to fix it and he's trapped in these stupid clothes and rooted to the spot until further notice. His partner evidently picks up on his distress a moment later.

“Alright?” he asks with a light touch to his arm.

Colin doesn't miss the way Bradley's eyes narrow in on the point of contact before he turns to face his colleague. “Yeah, fine.”

The creatives remain clustered around their monitor but the production assistant breaks away from the pack to approach them.

“We're going to break here for lunch. Now, because we're so ahead of schedule, we're going to try taking an extra set of individual close-ups with you in your clothing from the first shoot. Could I trouble you all by asking you to change back to outfit one before lunch so we can get to it immediately after lunch?”

They all nod their agreements and Colin hurries back to the changing area, eager to get the wardrobe change out of the way and find out what the hell is wrong with Bradley. He's out and scanning the corridors in under ten minutes. It's the first time he's been on his own since his arrival and the lone sound of his loafers slapping on the floor is both a welcome respite and a little bit unnerving. He's not alone for long as a closet door opens as he passes and a hand shoots out and hauls him inside.

For a brief moment, Colin panics and thinks one of the crazies has made it passed security and today's the day he gets turned into a pair of shoes for some nutter. Then a lone bulb snaps on over his head and he's face to face with a glowering Bradley James.

“Bradley? What the hell is going on? One minute you're glaring at me like I killed your mum, the next you're pulling me into closets?” Colin is acutely aware of exactly how much, or more fitting, how little space there is between them. He can practically feel the rage rolling off of Bradley in the way he's holding his shoulders and he can definitely feel his breath, hot against his neck and heavy like Bradley has just finished a marathon.

“You're infuriating sometimes, you know that?” Bradley's voice is low and so unlike his usual cadence it's shocking. “Actually no, I take that back, you're infuriating most of the time.”

And that's like a slap across the face. “Me? What the hell did I do?”

“Everything! With your comfy couch and your twisted sense of humour and your stupid cheekbones.”

“What do my cheekbones have to do with sending you into a homicidal rage?”

“Your cheekbones are the source of evil in this world. I thought I was safe, thought I'd grown immune to them after all these years. It was definitely your couch that lowered my defence. And then this damn suit.” He groaned out the last bit of the sentence and something low stirred in Colin's abdomen.

“My suit is making you crazy?”

“You have no idea.”

Colin's last coherent thought was that they should get Bradley to a hospital because it probably wasn’t healthy for his pupils to be that dilated on their own before all coherency was whipped away by the sudden pressure of Bradley's lips on his and a second light bulb went off above his head.

Besides being a day for bad descriptors, it was also the day the gods had finally decided to smile upon Colin and give him the best daydream he could ask for. Bradley's mouth was hot and insistent on his, a tongue forcing its way between his lips. It was really quite welcome to come in, and Colin greets it with a slide of his own. Bradley moans into his mouth and Colin's knees tremble a bit in a very manly fashion.

Suddenly reminded of fashion, Colin tries to pull away but only ends up with his back against the wall and Bradley still firmly attached to his mouth.

“Bradley stop,” he mumbles while his traitorous lips still dance with Bradley's, “what about the shoot? I can't get messed up.” And somehow that's what's throwing him about this situation. Not the fact that they're suddenly making out in a closet (and how's that for a metaphor) because that part feels perfectly natural. It's the fact he can't afford to mess up his clothes and in turn his job.

Bradley pulls back just enough to start mouthing along his neck. “Colin, I love you, but I don't care one iota about the sodding shoot. I have been waiting years for this. _Years_. And if I don't get my lips around your cock in the next five minutes I might actually die.”

If Colin had of thought to start a timer at the beginning of this exchange, he'd have empirical proof that this was the fastest his dick had ever hardened. As it was, all he had was a strong hunch and tight trousers. He was still trying to process what had just come out of Bradley's mouth when he came back to reality and found Bradley's mouth trying to process its way around his cock. He groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, sparing the briefest of moments to send a mental apology to the hairstylists.

“As lovely as this is, can we back up for a moment to the love part?” He looks down to see Bradley rolling his eyes while magically still providing a lovely amount of suction. Only Bradley could manage to look this annoyed with his cheeks hollowed like a porn star. “Seriously though.”

Bradley pulls off with a pop. “Sure. I love you, I've been in love with you for several years, and I was holding back my big gay feelings because I thought you only liked me as a friend and I didn't want to risk our epic bromance. Then you came out in that damn suit and broke me. Clear enough for you?”

“Yes.” The word is barely out of his mouth before Bradley reattaches himself like a god damn plecostomus. “Just so you're aware, it's the same for me. Love, years, bromance, except I guess the suit part. Although everything you wear is a little bit infuriating.” He can feel Bradley's lips curve upwards and he doesn't have to look down to know it's a smug smile. Then Bradley starts doing some truly impressive work with his tongue along the shaft and Colin knows he isn't going to last much longer. “At least this explains why you were shooting death looks my way with the bowtie outfit.”

Bradley growls around him and damn it if that isn't the best thing he's ever felt. “That bloody bowtie. You're not allowed to wear bowties in public anymore. Nothing good ever happens when you do and I'm ninety percent sure they reduce my life expectancy by five years.”

“When have you ever seen me in a bowtie before this?” He tries to think through the haze of lust but it's a dastardly tricky cloud.

“2012. National television awards,” says Bradley darkly.

And with sudden clarity, Colin is transported back to a red carpet with a subpar interview and Bradley with his mouth pressed into an angry little line.

“I could have ripped the bollocks off him,” Bradley mutters, laving at Colin's balls as if to make a point. Colin's legs absolutely do not tremor again but Bradley just chuckles and presses open mouth kisses to the inside of his thighs as he props him back up. Apparently convinced that Colin is strong enough to stand on his own again, Bradley returns to the task of sucking Colin's brains out of his cock with renewed vigour.

“I'll see what I can do to get them to pull the bowtie spread then,” Colin tangles his fingers in Bradley's hair, “and I promise I'll never wear another bowtie again.”

Bradley pulls off once more and Colin can't help the little whine that escapes at the sudden loss of heat. “Oh, you're definitely allowed to wear bowties. But only in the flat, and just for me. I have big plans for that bowtie, and for your entire outfit really. You should see if you can keep it.”

As Bradley reattaches himself, Colin's imagination explodes with visions of the two of them in compromising positions all over the flat, most of them centered around the couch.  He looks down to see Bradley gazing up at him, lips curved upwards, a small trickle of spit and pre-come leaking out at one corner. Without thinking, Colin runs his finger through the trail and smears it along Bradley's full lower lip. Bradley moans around him once more and that's all it takes for Colin to shoot his release. It's too late to warn Bradley but he doesn't seem to mind as he swallows it down.

It takes Colin a full two minutes to recover but Bradley doesn't waste any time, just licks the excess fluid off Colin's cock and tucks him neatly back into his trousers.

“So glad we had this little discussion,” says Colin when he finally gets his breath back.

“Yes, it was a long time coming but I'm glad we did it in the end,” Bradley stands up slowly, wincing as he straightens his knees.

“Don't be making double entendres just yet, no one's gotten ‘did’ yet.”

“I'm so glad you got that joke,” Bradley beams at him.

“Sorry I can't return the favour,” Colin gestures helplessly to his clothes. “But I'd really like to.”

“Don't worry, love. Just because you can't come in your pants, doesn't mean I can't come in mine,” he leans forward and places a remarkably chaste kiss on Colin's lips. “But I do think I'll go home and change now.”

For some reason, Colin's heart stutters more over hearing Bradley call the flat ‘home’ than it did over his declaration of love. “Not going to check in with Ruth?”

“Not today. But there's no rush, I'm planning on sticking around this time. If you'll have me.” He looks suddenly bashful and so un-Bradley like that Colin doesn't know if he wants to laugh or shake him.

“Of course you're sticking around you daft thing. As if I'd let you go anywhere now.”

Bradley's smile is back in full force as he ducks out of the closet. “Good. I'll ring Ruth tomorrow. Maybe she'll even have some modeling work for me. I hear it's quite a hard job but I think I'm up for the challenge.”

“It's a tough gig alright. You can't be afraid to thrust yourself into the spotlight and really push. Go hard or go home.”

They grin at each other like a pair of sappy love struck puppies before Bradley sets off down the hall. Colin takes a look in the mirror opposite the closet to see if it's obvious he's just had the best orgasm of his life when he hears Bradley call for him.

“Hey Cols?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring the bowtie.”


End file.
